


You Let Them Slip Away

by SilverSlashes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Epic Bromance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Het, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pack Dynamics, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Polyamory, Pre-Slash, Sciles, Stydia, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSlashes/pseuds/SilverSlashes
Summary: Some Things You Can’t Go Back To, Cause You Let Them Slip AwayLydia hesitates, but then she turns to dig around in her bag, “well, actually, I fell asleep with my drawing pad and pencil in my hand because I was going to sketch before bed.”She pulls out a piece of paper that’s been folded and holds it out, “and when I woke up, I had drawn this in my sleep.”Scott sits up straighter as he gets a look at the boy sketched in detail on the page, “Stiles?”Lydia looks sharply at him while Malia looks confusingly between the two of them, “What’s a Stiles?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on a Little Big Town song that is gorgeous. So, give it a listen. 
> 
> I almost tried to post a screenshot of the file information for this story so you could see the date I started writing it, because I knew no one would believe that I had written a majority of it before the season started. This little gem began to percolate in my brain once I knew the season would revolve around Stiles disappearing. 
> 
> I didn't set out to have a particular pairing. I read all pairings and my writing has, up until now, been Sterek-centered. But, I am a hard Stydia shipper in the show and this season in particular I am fully onboard the Scott McCall train. That boy. I mean. Just. Everything. Anywho, so it didn't seem right to leave Scott out. AND lastly, well, I admit that I slipped some things in once the season started because Malia is just a GIFT and she and Stiles' friendship post-breakup is darling! 
> 
> The point is that I hope you enjoy this and that you believe me when I say the similarities in this story and the current season of Teen Wolf are just that, coincidences. I do not have a mole in the writers room. I wish. 
> 
> Also, I hope you don't mind the flash-forward at the end because I had A LOT in my mind for this story and no time or energy to write the 100k words I would need to get from Point A to Point B so I just gave you a little tidbit of where it was going in my head. I hope you like. 
> 
> I have notes at the end, but the underage is on here because they are all still in high school and the dub-con is VERY minimal.

Scott knows it’s a dream because he can see the music, floating through the crowd like colored light. He’s pretty sure he saw that happen in a Disney movie once. He’s also pretty sure you can’t see music in real life. A string of pulsing, purple quarter notes sail past his head and the thump, thump, thump of the base is a feeling in his ribs more than a noise.

There are beautiful girls all around him, watching the concert. They sway with the music and Scott smells their shampoo and bubble gum and perfume mix together along with the heavy scent of sweat and alcohol that his werewolf nose picks out at every bar he goes to.

Scott sees a guy his age across the dance floor. He looks familiar. He looks determined. He begins walking towards Scott. A girl bumps into Scott and smiles at him as she mouths an apology over the music. Normally, he’d take the time to talk to her a minute, maybe dance, but he suddenly feels an imperative need to meet this boy still striding towards him through the throng of people on the dance floor.

Scott gently sets the girl aside and moves forward. They stop when they are close enough to touch, he and the stranger from across the room. They are closer than Scott would normally stand to a strange guy in a club, so that they can speak over the music.

“Do you know me?” the guy says.

Scott’s eyebrows draw together as he pulls back to look the guy full in the face. What a strange question. He lets his eyes roam over pale, creamy skin with a few beauty marks here and there. Scott’s eyes dart to the steady brown ones staring back at him. He tries to lean in discretely and sniff; maybe his wolf can scent something from this stranger.

“Should I know you?” Scott asks back.

He gets a helpless look in return, part sad and part frustrated, “My name is Stiles.”

Something that sounds and feels like a bell chimes in Scott’s head and he shakes it a little, not sure what it means. He says the name in his head. Stiles.

He says it out loud, “Stiles.”

That gets a small smile, “yeah, Scotty, I’m Stiles. Your Stiles. Do you remember?”

Scott must look even more confused because Stiles’ eyes become desperate, “I need you to remember.”

“I…” Scott gets distracted by a flash of green half notes as they zip by his head. The guitar solo on this song is particularly fucking awesome.

Scott tilts his head, “you like this song.”

Stiles looks like he might cry, “I love this song, dude. We used to listen to it over and over again in your bedroom while we were pretending to study.”

This boy knows Scott. Scott does not know this boy. But he feels like he should. He feels like he wants to. He leans in again, desperate to scent something that smells familiar.

Stiles reaches up and slowly grips Scott’s shoulder, “it’s ok; you can scent me. I know what you’re doing. Go for it. Maybe it will help.”

Scott’s eyes widen, “you know what I am?”

Stiles smiles again and his grip tightens, “of course I do. We’re pack. You are my alpha.”

Scott’s whole body is thrumming. He would know one of his betas. He would sense another wolf. Stiles cannot be a member of his pack.

Stiles leans in a bit as the music crescendos, “I’m not a wolf. My pack-ness is sorta honorary.”

Scott feels angry suddenly and he blurts out without thinking, “It’s not honorary Stiles. You are a pack member. We talked about this.”

Stiles jerks back at the same time Scott does, both of them shocked at the words.

“Why did I say that?” Scott looks at Stiles.

Stiles looks victorious, “because you remembered!”

Scott is weirded out, and the colors and the music are sort of blending. He’s losing touch with the solid part of the dream. A new song is playing now. He does not want to leave Stiles.

“Want to dance?”

Stiles makes a face, but then nods and they start moving to the music.

With the crush of bodies now clamoring against them they end up pressed together, swaying to the music much like a couple. Scott reaches up and places his hands on Stiles waist.

Stiles grins as their chests brush and the fabric of their t-shirts catch and rub, “you don’t like boys Scotty, never have.”

Scott concentrates and makes a half-statement, half-question, “but you do.”

Stiles laughs, bright and loud, “in theory man, in theory.”

Scott nods, “this is a dream.”

Stiles sighs even as he keeps swaying in time to the beat, “indeed it is.”

Scott thinks again, “Well, I like dancing with you. I don’t care about anything else right now.”

Stiles slows his pace, has eyes locking with Scott’s. He is thinking, Scott can tell. He can read this guy, this Stiles, already. He sees it coming before it happens. He does not move.

Stiles leans in and slants his mouth over Scott’s. The kiss is a little wild, a little off. Their mouths move against one another. Scott isn’t sure, but he knows that kissing Stiles is different, is right, in this moment, and he doesn’t hesitate. Stiles kisses him back almost desperately. Scott has never kissed a guy before, but the way that his lips and tongue press into Stiles feels comforting and familiar, like an old engine turning over. Like a Jeep engine.

Scott pulls back from the kiss suddenly, “you drive a Jeep!”

Stiles nods frantically, “I do!”

Scott smiles, “have we kissed like that before?”

Stiles shakes his head and a laugh startles out of him, “never.”

Scott frowns, “Then why did you…”

“Because I need you to remember, Scott. Remember me. Remember this dream.”

Scott nods. He cups the back of Stiles neck and pulls their foreheads together, “I will. I promise, Stiles. I will.”

He feels Stiles finger tracing a path on his side. It feels like a circle within a circle. Scott smiles even as he feels the edges of the dream blurring. He’s waking up. The rainbow notes are falling now, like rain. Stiles is sinking away from him. His Stiles. His best friend. Scott panics and reaches out blindly, but Stiles is gone. He hears his voice still though.

“Remember me. Remember.”

“Scott… remember… school…” the voice changes and Scott jerks awake. His mother is shaking him as his alarm blares from the bedside table. He must have slept through it.

She repeats, “Scott, remember that you have to be at school early this morning for a lacrosse team meeting.”

Scott sits up, “right, thanks Mom.”

Her voice softens as she walks towards the door, “well, you clearly slept well if you slept so hard that you didn’t hear your alarm. Good dream?”

Scott walks to his bathroom to start getting ready, “Um, not sure yet.”

Melissa gives Scott a funny look, “well, ok, let me know.”

“Mom,” Scott stops her as she’s about to leave the room, “do we know a Stiles?”

Melissa raises one eyebrow, “what is a Stiles?”

Scott pauses with his toothbrush halfway to this mouth, “I think he’s a person.”

“He?” She shakes her head, “no, I don’t know anyone named Stiles.”

Scott sighs and gets up to get ready, “right, of course, weird dream is all.”

She smiles slightly and turns to go, “well, I’m off to work and I’ll see you later tonight.”

Scott already has a toothbrush in his mouth so he gives the thumbs up and walks back into his bathroom.

A few minutes later he hears the back door shut and he walks to his desk. He picks up a pen and a post-it note and on it he writes, Stiles.

He feels dumb, but he puts the note in his backpack anyway and finishes getting ready.

 

Lydia likes this dream. She’s had it before. The shoe shop in Paris she favors is only slightly different in her dreams. It’s empty, for starters. She is the only customer today, free to try on as many pairs of heels as she likes. She eyes a pair of genuine leather slingbacks in a rich purple. Yes. Those.

She walks towards the pair to inspect them and is startled when a salesperson seems to appear beside her out of nowhere. He is dressed well, as she glances at him with barely a notice.

“Would you like to try them on, madam?”

There is something off about his voice and Lydia turns to give him her full attention. Her voice catches in her throat when their eyes meet. She knows him.

“Hello Lydia.”

“Stiles?”

He smiles sadly, “you always remember me first. But then you wake up and I can’t seem to get you to remember me outside of the dreams yet.”

Lydia looks back at the purple pumps, which are now a muted blue color that reminds her of something. A car? Strange. But, then, this is a dream.

“Am I choosing to be in my favorite shoe shop in Paris, or do you also like it here?”

Stiles laughs, “did you know that I overheard you tell someone in the hallway at school about this shop once? I ordered you a pair of heels from here. I had them shipped. “

“How did you know my size?”

Stiles blushes, something he hasn’t done around her in some time, “I measured the tiles in the hallway floor at school and then I watched you stand in them and extrapolated the length of your foot.”

Lydia smiles because it sounds like such a Stiles thing to do. How is this boy even real? How hard she worked for so long to pretend not to notice him. That was stupid of her. One of the many things on the list of stupid things she used to do, back before she was a banshee. Before she had real friends. Before she had a pack.

She looks around while speaking to Stiles, “So you are controlling this dream?”

“I suppose, for lack of a better term, I am hijacking your dream with the purpose of trying to get you to remember me.”

Lydia nods, “but I forget you when I wake up?”

Stiles sits on one of the tan leather divans, “you always forget. All of you.”

Lydia sits beside him and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly, “but why are we forgetting? And where are you?”

Stiles runs his thumb over the back of her hand gently, “it’s not your fault. He makes you forget. He has me… somewhere. I don’t know. I sleep a lot now. He makes me tired.”

Lydia lays her head on Stiles’ shoulder, “so if you’re asleep and I’m asleep, that’s how this is happening?”

Stiles nods, “yeah, I don’t think his powers can effect dreams. Or, maybe it’s more accurate to say that the magic he uses to make you forget me only works when you’re awake.”

Lydia bolts upright, “Stiles, I was drawing when I fell asleep.”

Stiles looks oddly at her, “you don’t draw.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “well, I drew the Nematon that one time. And since I discovered I sometimes draw important things when I’m doing my banshee thing, I’ve started sketching in my free time.”

Stiles makes a wild hand gesture with his free hand, “what? To see if you, like, accidentally banshee-draw something again?”

“Yes. But, what if I draw you now? In this dream? Maybe I’ll actually draw you while I’m asleep.”

Stiles shrugs, “it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll need a pen and paper or whatever.”

As she says it she looks beside her to find a notepad and a pencil. She picks it up and turns towards Stiles who has dropped her hand. Their eyes meet as she begins to sketch.

He smiles, “you know I’ve got a terrible problem sitting still?”

She makes a face, “well, you’re going to have to work through that if you want me to remember you when I wake up.”

He nods resolutely and stares at a point over her shoulder. Lydia draws and draws until Stiles starts to come alive on the paper in front of her. The Stiles she draws looks more carefree than the one in front of her. His hair is a little shorter. She spends the most time on his eyes.

Just as she starts in on the beauty mark by his cheek the world tilts sideways and Lydia jolts with a yell as the pen, the paper, the shoe store, and Stiles all start to slide down like fresh paint on a wetted canvas.

“Stiles!” she shouts into the void.

“Remember,” she thinks she hears him shout back.

Lydia awakes to the sound of a thud. Her sheets rumpled around her and her cell phone beeping her alarm. Right. School today. Chemistry test. She pushes the covers away and thinks about the strange dream she had… the shoe shop in Paris. That’s always a good one. There had been a weird salesperson helping her with those heels.

She stands up and wobbles as one foot connects with carpet and the other with paper. She looks down to see her sketchpad on the floor. It must have fallen out of the bed while she slept. She had been drawing before falling asleep.

She reaches down to pick it up and turns it over. She gasps. There is a boy staring back at her. He is cute. His eyes are piercing her. He looks familiar. Did she draw this? When? Surely she would remember seeing a boy like this and drawing something this detailed. Did she draw in her sleep?

She closes the sketchpad and walks to her bathroom lost in thought. The visage of the guy held secure in her mind’s eye. Who is he? She ponders, as she gets ready for school. She grabs her Chem book from her desk and puts it in her bag. Before she can think too much about it, she grabs the drawing pad and shoves it in there too.

 

Malia is running.

She is a coyote. The moon is full. Her paws thunder across the ground as she yips at the sky. She is free.

Suddenly, out of the underbrush to her right, a furry streak emerges – a red fox, running towards her. It yips as well as it springs at her. They collide and roll in the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. Malia playfully nips at the fur she can reach and the fox’s hind legs thump, thump into her side as it tries to gain traction in the roll.

When they finally come to a stop in a heap the fox leaps up and bounds around her as Malia gets up more gracefully and shakes her fur out. She likes playing with the fox. The fox is funny and sometimes clumsy and always curious. It finally settles though as Malia stands still watching its antics. She watches as the fluffy, white-tipped tail wraps around the front of the fox when it sits.

The more Malia stares, the stiller the fox gets until she stares so long that the outline of the fox blurs at the edges and grows until the fox is a man kneeling on the ground. His eyes are brown and they do not hold any of the playfulness of the fox from a moment ago.

She feels closer to the man than she does the fox somehow, even in coyote form. He holds a hand out and she rubs her head against it. His fingers are fast and gentle as they stroke her head and ears.

His scent is forest and car engine, with the sweet hint of medication and desperation laced underneath. Most importantly he smells a bit like her, like he used to belong to her. But she also smells a wolf on him, an alpha, her alpha, Scott. Strange.

“Hi Malia. Do I still smell familiar tonight?”

She tilts her head at him, confused by his comment. He sighs and strokes a finger down her muzzle, which feels nice.

“You always seem to recognize my smell above anything else. It helps when I appear as a fellow animal first. You aren’t human in your dreams very often. I suppose after a full day of pretending to be a regular girl it’s nice to return to this, even if only in sleep.”

She lays down, a strange whining noise made in her throat, and he smiles ruefully and continues, “But, yea, so, you always smell me first and Lydia always remembers me first. I suppose her banshee powers keep her tapped into the essence of a person. I think she can sense me moving closer to death.”

Death? Malia picks her head up and tries to study this fox-man for signs of death. He doesn’t smell like death. He looks tired though. Very tired.

“Scott’s the biggest problem. I think the magic must be working very strongly on him. It would have to be powerful magic to erase a pack member from the mind of an alpha. He seems to see me the clearest when I either doubt my status in the pack to him or I try to elicit a physical response.”

He glances at her again, “which is weird, you know. I’ve never had those sort of feelings or urges for Scott.”

He looks doubtful for a minute, “is it ok that we’re even talking about this? I mean, I know you’re you even when you’re, well,” he gestures vaguely to her, “in this form.”

He shrugs when she doesn’t move or make a noise, only tilts her head the other direction, “well, spoiler alert,” he grins, “Scotty-boy is a pretty good kisser. I mean, as his friend, I never doubted his prowess for a second, but still, it’s nice to know.”

Something shifts overhead, a shadow across the moon, and Malia feels her humanness swimming to the front of her mind. She is waking up.

The man looks at her again and his voice floats to her from far away even though she can still see him crouched in front of her, “the others will remember soon, I hope. They’ll need you to help lead them. Follow my scent. Remember my scent. Remember…”

Malia closes her eyes to try and concentrate on his fading words, but when she opens them again there is bright sunshine streaming in through her window. She glances at the clock and jumps at the time. Late again.

She goes through the morning routine that Lydia taught her. Teeth. Face. Hair. Clothes. Books. Bag. She’s forgetting something… shoes! She takes the highlighter she was using the night before to study and throws it in her bag. She grabs the pen, but instead of tossing it in her bag she clicks it and writes on her hand before she can think about what she’s doing.

Forest. Car engine. Medication. Scott.

She looks down at the words and tries to think about what they would all smell like mixed together. What a strange dream that had been last night – a fox that turned into a guy who smelled like pack. She glances at the clock again, says a curse word that Braden taught her and bolts for the door.

 

Lydia jumps slightly when Scott slams his locker door a little too forcefully. He notices immediately and apologizes, “I’m sorry, I know how much you hate loud noises.”

She smiles without real humor, “it’s funny, right? I mean, considering I am a loud noise.”

Scott puts his bag down and looks around the hallway, which is nearly empty before he gives into the temptation to touch her. Lydia doesn’t accept affection from him often, is more likely to when he makes it about himself. She’s willing to let her alpha ground himself through touch with one of his pack members, but it’s still hard for her sometimes to accept comfort from a friend.

So Scott flashes his eyes briefly, the red bleeding in and out as he reaches a hand out to touch the side of her neck. He feels her relax a little. She reaches up and puts her hand on top of his and they both exhale.

Scott leans in and presses his nose to her hair, inhaling her scent. He feels more settled. They are alone in the hallway now. He wouldn’t risk it otherwise. Scott’s a tactile guy, but he’s careful about how much the pack touches one another at school. Packs are very affectionate; healthy ones at least. Ironically, Derek had taught him that. But, the high school rumor mill doesn’t really account for werewolves in their gossip. Not that Scott would care at this point if people thought he and Lydia were dating. Or he and Liam for that matter. Whatever.

He steps back from Lydia and she gives him a real smile this time, “better?”

He nods, “you?”

She shrugs but he gets that she means yes.

Scott shoulders his bag as they make their way to lunch, “I’ve just felt unsettled lately. Strange dreams.”

Lydia nods, “yeah, me too, actually.”

Scott stops, “any deaths?”

She shakes her head, “no, don’t worry. Just my favorite shoe shop in Paris.”

Scott laughs, “Do you dream about shoe shopping often?”

Lydia leads him into the cafeteria as they continue their talk. They make a beeline for Malia at one of the tables, still chatting, “I have a reoccurring dream about that particular shoe shop, yes, thank you very much.”

Scott holds his hand up, “ok, but, then, what was weird about it?”

Lydia hesitates, but then she turns to dig around in her bag, “well, actually, I fell asleep with my drawing pad and pencil in my hand because I was going to sketch before bed.”

She pulls out a piece of paper that’s been folded and holds it out, “and when I woke up, I had drawn this in my sleep.”

Scott sits up straighter as he gets a look at the boy sketched in detail on the page, “Stiles?”

Lydia looks sharply at him while Malia looks confusingly between the two of them, “What’s a Stiles?”

Scott whips around to dig in his backpack for something. He pulls the sticky note out and sticks it to Lydia’s drawing. Lydia reads Scott’s untidy handwriting. Stiles.

Malia glances down at the drawing and her brows draw together, “he looks familiar. Like the fox in my dream last night that smelled like Scott.”

Lydia and Scott turn to stare at Malia together as Lydia says, “what?”

Malia is looking at her pudding cup and not at them, like the conversation they’re having isn’t suddenly extremely weird and somehow urgent to both Scott and Lydia.

She looks up at them, “I have dreams a lot where I’m in my coyote form and I’m running. Well, I think that the last few nights there’s been this fox that is running with me. And then we stop and he turns into a boy, well, um, a guy. That guy, I think,” she points at the drawing.

Malia shrugs, “but then, last night, I remembered what he smelled like, when I woke up. I don’t always remember the details of the dream.”

She holds her hand out and Lydia takes a hold of it as Scott leans forward. Scrawled in smeared pen are the words: forest, car engine, medication, Scott.

Lydia grabs a pen from her bag and ads those words to the sticky note that says Stiles and is now attached to her sketch. Scott looks it all over.

“So we all have a dream about the same guy?” His head hurts. Or, it would, if he could get headaches.

Malia has turned her attention back to her pudding but Lydia is looking down, “his name is Stiles and he smells like you.”

Malia nods, “he smelled like pack.”

Scott swallows hard, “Stiles.” He feels something sort of pop in his brain, like a little buzz that he can’t explain.

He says it out loud again, “Stiles.” Scott turns to Lydia, “what do you feel when you look at the drawing now?”

Lydia looks down at the paper, her eyes moving around as if she’s searching for something, “I feel like I should feel something and don’t. Like when you know that you should love someone and can’t.”

Scott and Lydia look at each other, “look, either we’re either all having the same crazy dream…”

“There is no way that this is some type of coincidence,” Lydia hisses.

Malia is looking at the drawing, a small frown on her face, “I feel crazy most of the time,” she looks at Lydia, “and you did go to an insane asylum, like, a few times.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “how about we’re not crazy and something has made us forget someone who used to be a big part of our lives?”

Scott startles, remembering something, “he said that I forgot him. He told me to remember.”

Lydia mumbles, “Remember. Remember. Look, the dread doctors could make us forget that we’d seen them right? So, what’s to stop some other supernatural creature from making us forget we’d seen someone else?”

Scott has an uneasy feeling blooming in his chest, “this feels big. I feel emptier the more we talk about it. Something is wrong. Like a member of the pack is missing. Like how I felt when Allison…,” he trails off.

Lydia locks eyes with Scott and he doesn’t have to say it out loud. It feels like a pack member dying.

Lydia stares more at the picture, almost trance like, and Scott can see her struggling to recall more of her dream, “he said something to me. He said something about the magic working harder against you because…”

Scott nods, finishing her thought, “… because it would take a lot of magic to make an alpha forget a pack member.”

“But I don’t think that,” Malia looks down to read the name again, “Stiles, is a wolf. The boy in my dreams didn’t smell like a wolf. But he could turn into a fox in the dream at least.”

Lydia considers this before speaking to Scott, “he could be someone important in your pack. Even human members can be tied to you through a pack bond. That would be hard to sever magically.”

Scott stands up, “we need to go see Deaton. Now.”

Malia looks longingly at the rest of her food before moving to stand as well, “the guy in my dreams smelled tired. Not dead. Just tired. Like he was losing a fight maybe.”

“Now”, Scott repeats. They make for the parking lot and Lydia’s car.

 

Stiles can’t remember the last time he was warm. He tries to hold onto the snippets of memory he has left. The good ones are all almost gone. He takes them.

Stiles has come to learn something in the last week – memories are like little pieces of your soul. And this thing, whatever it is called, takes memories. Good ones. And Stiles is positive that little bits of his soul are going right along with it.

And the worst part, as he lays here forgetting who he is one slow second at a time, is that whatever magic this thing uses to take his memories, enables it to erase the memory of him from his family and friends.

Stiles still remembers Scott, and his Dad, and Lydia, and Malia. He knows there was once more to remember. Those moments have been stolen now, but he still remembers the people. He still remembers what they mean to him. And he remembers that he did something maybe to help them remember again. Didn’t he? He’s so cold. He hears the door open and he can’t stop the shivering.

“You know Stiles, I’ve noticed something. You’re not a very happy person…” the voice creeps closer until the creature is standing next to him.

Stiles is tied to a table. The room he is being kept in looks nice enough. He doesn’t know where he is. He hasn’t left the table since he got here.

The man responsible for Stiles’ situation looks down at him now, “and yet, you have very happy thoughts. It’s like you have these joyful warm moments that you can’t properly appreciate. Fear has a way of dulling everything else around us, don’t you think?”

Stiles has come to know the face of his captor very well. It is an extremely handsome face, but it's not fooling Stiles. He’s seen what this thing hiding behind a mask of humanity is capable of.

A hand comes up to brush the skin of his stomach, exposed where his shirts have ridden up. The feather light touch makes him flinch on the inside, but he uses every ounce of willpower he has left to remain stoic.

“You know, it’s probably why you haven’t really thought about your obsessive love for Lydia lately. I mean, I can tell from your memories that she’s in your life a lot more than she used to be. You share a very deep connection. Isn’t that what you wished for, way back when?”

The thing takes a deep breath and makes a tutting noise, “it’s hard to carry that old flame when you’re more worried about which of your friends is going to die next.”

He nods in mock sympathy, “I understand. Of course, I’ve much more enjoyed your more recent memories of Lydia. That kiss? Wow. And can I say that the vastness of your feelings, how they’ve matured and tempered… it tasted like a fine wine.”

Stiles feels the anger bubbling up but he stamps it down because it won’t help him right now. He knows that this thing feeds off his happy memories. He likes to rehash the ones that he has now that Stiles can’t remember. For Stiles it’s like wanting to scratch an itch on a limb that’s been amputated. He feels a sensation of recognition, but when he reaches he comes up empty.

He knows that there is a Lydia. He knows what she looks like. He knows he’s known her for a long time. He knows he cares for her. Have they kissed? He tries to think of any of the interactions they’ve shared and he can’t think of a single one.

The thing smiles and it makes Stiles stomach twist. It speaks again, “Let’s see what I can devour this time shall we? I especially enjoyed the one of you and Scott in the woods that one time. You know the one? Or, you did.”

Stiles wants to scream and cry and struggle; but, he knows it will do no good. He just has to hope that just maybe help is on the way.

Stiles gets very tired after it feeds on him. If he sleeps and he dreams, maybe he can get another message through. Maybe they’ll remember this time. They have to remember. Someone has to remember him. Or he’s going to forget everything.

 

All three of them burst into the back room of the veterinarian office. No one uses the front door anymore.

“Someone is missing,” Scott blurts out as he comes to a halt where Deaton is examining a Great Dane on the table.

Deaton looks up briefly and then back down at the dog’s paw, “who is missing, exactly?”

Scott glances at Lydia, “Stiles?”

Deaton frowns, “what is a Stiles?”

Lydia breaks in, “look, we know that the dread doctors made us forget that we’d seen them. Is there a supernatural creature that could make us forget other things? Like people? That could take memories?”

Deaton looks at them with his full attention now. So they haltingly try to explain the situation to him in full. The dreams. The pieces coming together at lunch. Their hypothesis that it is either a creature using their dreams to trick them into something or, more likely, they did have a friend named Stiles who was taken and now he’s in trouble and they can’t remember him, much less how to find him.

Deaton stays silent for a long time, until finally, “There is a way to remember, maybe. You say you think the magic is weaker when you’re sleeping?”

Lydia nods, “Stiles seems to be visiting us in our dreams. I think. It doesn’t feel like we’re dreaming memories of him we lost. It feels like he’s using dreams to communicate.”

Malia makes a non-committal noise and Scott shrugs, “it was definitely a dream, but it was somewhere I don’t think I’ve ever been, so I don’t think it’s a memory of something Stiles and I did. I agree that it felt more like he was visiting me in my dreams.”

Deaton looks sort of stunned and then maybe pleased.

“This Stiles must be your emissary.”

Scott sort of just stares at Deaton like he can’t comprehend what he’s saying.

So Lydia speaks up, “aren’t emissaries normally magical members of a pack? Like a second, but not a wolf?”

Deaton moves his head back and forth as if to say sort of, “well, this Stiles must be magical to some degree if he managed to be made into an emissary.”

Scott jerks like he’s been hit. How could he forget someone that important to him?

Deaton is still talking to Lydia, “emissaries are counselors, advisors, and protectors of the pack. The fact that an emissary is a non-wolf is important. They help packs connect with their human side. They share a special bond with the alpha. Emissaries can be human spouses of the alpha or human siblings of a turned wolf or just someone who has been or has become integral to the pack.”

Deaton looks at Scott, “whoever is doing this has to have some powerful magic working to make an alpha forget his emissary.”

Lydia holds up a hand, “let’s circle back around for a second. How do you know this Stiles guy is our emissary?”

“Because no matter what creature of magic this is, if Stiles really is a person that really was in your life and he really is reaching out to you through dreams while in captivity… well, no complete human or beta wolf could do that. He’s using a loophole in this creature’s magic to insert himself into your minds. He could only do that, consciously or subconsciously, with a deep connection to the pack.”

Scott is angry with himself and the situation. He needs to find this Stiles now, “you said something about remembering? How do we find him?”

“I can put you under, into a sort of sleep.” Deaton looks at Scott directly, “this time though you’ll have to help Stiles guide the dream. Ask him to share as much as he knows about where he’s being kept.”

Scott nods, “do it.”

 

Scott is drifting in that weird place between waking and sleeping where he’s sort of floating but he can still hear Deaton’s voice chanting lowly in the background. He works to channel his thoughts towards Stiles. He repeats the name to himself over and over again until it almost sounds like the beat of a drum in his mind. Scott tries to picture Lydia’s drawing.

“Scott?” The voice sounds weak. Scott turns in circles, trying to follow the hollow sound of his name.

“Stiles!”

Scott turns again and his eye catches on something out ahead of him in the blackness, it’s a hazy recollection of what he thinks Stiles looked like before. He doesn’t remember his dream very well, but the boy Lydia drew was more vibrant than this.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Stiles smiles tiredly, “get it? Cuz I’m all ghostly looking.”

Scott doesn’t smile, he’s looking around, “why aren’t we somewhere? Why are we nowhere?”

Stiles shrugs, “question for the ages. But, I think you’re asking me why we aren’t in the club setting like your last dream.”

Stiles looks down at himself, “the truth is that I’m almost too tired to even appear to you, much less to weave your dreamscape into something.”

Scott closes the distance between them but he’s afraid to reach out, afraid that Stiles is just smoke and mist, “We’re coming for you. Whoever you are.”

Stiles looks hopeful for a second, “maybe if you get here in time, you’ll remember who I am again.”

Scott reaches out, placing his palm on the side of Stiles’ neck, which is solid though cold, “can you tell me anything about where you are?”

Stiles shakes his head, “I’ve only ever seen the room I’m being held in, but I get the sense that the house is big and nice, I think. The thing holding me said something about liking posh zip codes.”

Scott wishes it were more, but he smiles at Stiles encouragingly, “that’s great, and it helps. Malia thinks she can remember what you smell like.”

Scott can hear Deaton’s chanting again, his consciousness must be surfacing. He watches as Stiles stutters in and out like a static TV. Stiles seems to notice too.

“Dude, I’m like a hologram.” He holds out his hand, “help us Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re our only hope.”

Something about it is so ridiculous and familiar that Scott feels the bell chime in his head again before everything fades out to blackness.

Scott’s eyes fly open, their eerie glowing red light bleeding into the dim light of the exam room, “I think I know what direction to head in.”

Scott sits up, “he’s being held in an actual house. He said he hasn’t seen anything but the room he’s in but that the thing holding him let slip something about being accustomed to nice zip codes.”

Lydia nods, “that would mean we start with the nicest neighborhood in Beacon Hills, my neighborhood. There are a few houses for sell that would be vacant!”

Scott goes to head out the backdoor, “let’s hope that Malia remembers enough of his scent to get us the rest of the way.”

Malia follows the two of them, “I’ll call Liam and Mason.”

Scott nods, “you sit in the front with the windows down and see if you smell anything like what you remember from your dream.”

 

The house is nice. Lydia thinks it looks a lot like her house before her parents divorced and her mother started quietly selling the nicer things. She’s not sure if it’s staged for the market or this thing travels with the entire Martha Stewart Living catalogue in the back of a U-Haul. It was the only one they came across that was supposed to be vacant but had a “funny smell to it” which was all the wolves would say.

It’s very quiet and still and dark. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad. They make it into the house through an unlocked back door, definitely a bad sign. The first level is empty. It isn’t till she and Scott get to the top of the stairs that they hit what must be a small security force. At least three guys rush down the hall at them. She hopes Malia, Liam, and Mason are ok; they split up a few minutes ago.

She hears Scott growl, but she tells him to duck and cover his ears. It isn’t hard to work up her screams when she’s angry or scared. Somewhere in this house is one of her friends and he needs her help even if she can’t remember him right now. She lets loose a wild yell that throws back the guy advancing on her. He hits a wall with a crack and crumples to the floor. That was easy. Maybe this creature has human lackeys.

The other two guys have clearly never seen a banshee before because they just stare at her until Scott springs up and takes them down to the floor with a growl before knocking them out. Scott’s head tilts slightly to the side for a minute before he relaxes.

He turns back to Lydia, “the others met with some resistance as well but it sounds like they’re handling it ok.”

She nods to the hallway, “let’s start trying doors.”

Scott shakes his head, “I think I can smell my way at this point. Whatever this thing is, it smells like death and sex.”

Lydia makes a face, “I’m glad that my other senses are human, that sounds awful.”

“It really is.”

They move soundlessly down the hallway, Lydia following behind Scott until he gets to a door on the right and stops. Just as he reaches for the knob he hears a slight disturbance to his left and turns to see Malia, Liam, and Mason spill out of another hallway into the one he and Lydia are in. He motions with his hand for them to stand behind them.

Once everyone is in place Scott turns the knob and moves cautiously into the room as the others flank him. The room is just a Stiles described, nondescript, bare but for a table in the center of the room that Stiles is tied to. Scott recognizes him from Lydia’s drawing and from the weird sleep spell Deaton did on him, that dream is much clearer than the others.

There is a man standing at the table by Stiles’ head, holding a dagger to his throat. He looks like an average guy except maybe more attractive than most people Scott thinks. Scott holds his hand back to bring the pack to a stop as they fan out around the door. He lets his eyes flash red at the stranger.

The thing speaks and in it’s anger Scott catches flashing glimpses of what the thing looks like under its human façade, “I’m not sure how the hell you found me, but you’re going to leave unless you want your friend to die.”

It smiles nastily, “I mean, you don’t even remember that Stiles here is your friend. So, what’s it to you anyway? You can leave and not feel any guilt. I’m honestly not sure how you got through my memory block even just a little.”

Scott glances briefly at Stiles to make sure he is in fact still breathing before focusing on the creature again, “you didn’t just take a member of a wolf pack, which was mistake number one, but you took the emissary to a true alpha,” Scott feels himself shift, “strike two.”

He can see that he’s startled the creature, who now doesn’t look so sure of himself. Scott doesn’t turn around but he whispers, “Lydia.”

He hears her draw a breath and tries to prepare his eardrums. If he covers his ears the creature will realize what’s happening. The scream rips through the room, but Lydia must be getting better at honing in her aim because her sound wave rolls over Stiles without disturbing him and knocks the creature square in the chest. It goes flying backwards with the knife in hand.

Scott lunges as his wolves converge around him. He pounces on the creature, pinning it to the ground and knocking the knife away from where it had clattered on the floor when Lydia’s scream flung the thing backwards.

Scott thrusts his hand out and into the creature’s chest. He grips its heart and jerks back, ripping it from its chest. There is a screeching noise that dies off as the light leaves its eyes and it crumples to the floor. A sort of mist rises up from the body and drifts over to where the prone body of Stiles lays tied to a table. The mist settles into his body and he breathes in deeply and stills again.

Scott cries out suddenly, falling to a knee and barely hearing his pack members do the same around him. All his memories of Stiles are coming back, like his life rearranging itself and sharpening into focus where it had been blurry along the edges. He remembers. Scott feels tears prick his eyes. How could he have forgotten?

He gets up and stumbles to the table to check on his friend. Lydia and the rest of the pack follow, both Liam and Malia working on cutting the bindings. Scott looks Stiles over, checking that he’s breathing and unharmed.

Stiles looks so pale, like the nogitsune had inhabited his body again. When he opens his eyes and looks at Scott, Scott half expects to see the cold, black malice of a thousand year old creature staring back at him, but it’s just the familiar, warm honey-brown of Stiles. A bit glassy and unfocused, but Stiles.

“Scott?” His voice is hoarse and Scott doesn’t know if it’s from disuse or too much use.

“I’m here Stiles. We’re all here. We’re gonna get you outta here.”

Stiles smiles a little, “ok.”

He looks like he’s struggling to maintain consciousness and in fact promptly passes out again.

Scott looks at Lydia who has Stiles’ hand in a death grip, “Malia, go get the car. We’re taking him straight to Deaton.”

 

The entire pack watches worriedly as Deaton checks Stiles over. He asks Scott questions about the creature and about Stiles now that all their memories are back.

“It sounds like an incubus of some kind. Maybe one that feeds off of memories or souls?”

Lydia looked horrified, “it ate his soul?!”

Deaton shook his head, “no, it tried, but Scott killed it before it could finish the job. So the parts of Stiles’ soul it did manage to take, as far as I can tell, have been returned unharmed back to his body.”

“Physically, he’s fine. He could be experiencing the shock of having his soul slowly sucked from his body and then suddenly pushed back in.” Deaton said it very matter-of-factly.

Mason looks at Deaton like he’s crazy, “yeah, I guess that would be shocking…” he trails off like he already knows his sarcasm will be lost on Deaton.

Scott looks down at Stiles’ shivering body, “what do I do to snap him out of it?”

“You need to ground him in the pack. Keep him warm. Keep him close. Stiles is human but he can use the spark, and he’s your emissary. That means he can only just tangibly feel the link that he has to you as his alpha and the pack. Like Lydia, it’s probably something he senses only subconsciously and only in times of acute stress. Which was how he merged with each of you in the dreams.”

Deaton looks at Liam and Malia, “unlike your betas which feel their tie to the pack like an actual tether.”

Lydia has a death grip on Stiles’ other hand, “so Scott just has to use the tether to help reverse the effects of the shock?”

“If he concentrates he should be able to find the tie and strike at it, like plucking a guitar string to make a sound.”

“That will bring Stiles back to us?” Lydia already looks determined.

Deaton nods grimly, “Yes.”

Scott looks down at Stiles, “and you’re sure he’s my emissary?”

Deaton nods, “it wouldn’t have had to be a formal ceremony or any sort of traditional wording. You could have done it without knowing.”

Scott remembers vividly then;trying to apologize, trying to make it up to Stiles, what he had said and how he had doubted him. He had insisted that he couldn’t repair the pack, couldn’t be an alpha, and couldn’t do anything, until he had Stiles’ forgiveness; until he had his support.

He had even made Stiles draw the circle within the circle Scott drew. He remembers that Stiles had taken the opportunity to make another disparaging comment about Scott’s tattoo being stupid. But, he had drawn the circle, his lithe finger tracing with assuredness in the dirt. Had that been it? Had Scott bonded Stiles to him as the pack emissary?

He tries to explain to Deaton what they did. He nods again, “that certainly could have been the moment.”

Scott takes a minute to think and then seems to come to a decision, “can we take him somewhere? Do we have to do this here? Now?”

Deaton shakes his head, “I don’t think Stiles is in any imminent danger. And I actually think this would work better if he was somewhere familiar.”

Scott looks at Lydia, “you’ll help me get him home?”

Lydia nods, “of course.”

Scott turns to Liam, Malia, and Mason, “you three can go home, get some rest. Thank you for your help. I’ll check in with each of you tomorrow.”

Liam and Mason move to leave, but Malia hesitates in the doorway. She comes back to stand by Stiles’ head, sweeping his hair back from his face gently. Scott’s never seen her do something so human before, “you’re going to be alright Stiles,” she whispers.

Scott looks at her, “you can come with us.”

She grimaces at him before turning the same half-smile on Lydia, “I think he’s going to be ok. I know you’ll both make sure of it.”

With that she leaves. Scott looks at Lydia who does an elegant version of a shrug. He hands her the car keys and moves to pick Stiles’ up so they can get him to his house as soon as possible.

 

The car ride is torture with Stiles out cold in the back. Lydia and Scott rely on him a lot to fill the silences.

“I remembered everything the moment you killed that thing,” Lydia speaks into the silence.

“Me too.” Scott glances at her. She looks pale and shaken, but the same unflappable Lydia is shining through in places.

She hiccups a little laugh that’s almost a sob, but she reels it in, “how could we have ever thought it was just the two of us after… after Allison? I mean, he’s so important to…” she waves a hand as if to draw what she’s trying to say.

“To us.” Scott finishes. “To the pack.”

Lydia looks out the window, “It’s like I see it differently a little now that I’ve got it all back. Like a TV show you watched a long time ago and then you marathon it all again at once and it’s almost too much.”

She reaches over and takes Scott’s hand, folding it between both of her own and holding it in her lap. It's something Allison used to do and it makes Scott’s breath catch. All his nerves are raw, his thoughts and feelings so sensitive and right on the surface. He squeezes Lydia’s hand and glances back in the rearview mirror to make sure Stiles is still ok.

 

Scott lays Stiles on the bed, removing first Stiles shoes then his own. He directs Lydia to a hall closet where blankets can be found. Scott sits on Stiles bed, his back up against the headboard. He pulls Stiles’ body close to him until his best friend’s back is pressed to his chest and Scott’s legs are bracketing Stiles. Scott hopes that his unnatural werewolf body heat will help Stiles to warm up.

Lydia returns, kicking her shoes off and piling the blankets over both of the boys on the bed. Then, she shimmies under the blankets herself, draping her body over part of Stiles so that he is encased in warmth. Scott thinks about what Stiles would have given just a few years ago to have Lydia Martin draped across him in bed. He almost lets a hysterical laugh out but reins it in.

Lydia has her head on Stiles chest as it rises and falls and Scott puts one arm across her back and the other he brings around so that his hand is resting lightly across Stiles’ throat. He feels his alpha rumble and he works to bring to the surface instincts he normally shoves ruthlessly down.

Stiles needs him to be his alpha, but Scott is also his friend and his brother. He just needs to find the thread that links them together. He hopes he doesn’t imagine the shivers in Stiles body already calming slightly.

Lydia whispers into the silence, “You can do this Scott. I’m right here. It’s just like the nogitsune. You have to signal to Stiles as an alpha would to a member of his pack. Let him know you’re here. Let him know we’re waiting on him to come back.”

Scott breathes in deep, even breaths and his chest pushes at Stiles back. Stiles did this for him once in middle school when Scott had his first ever asthma attack in the middle of the woods. Stiles had dropped down behind Scott so their chests were lined up and he had whispered into Scott’s ear as he breathed deep and evenly. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Just take deep breaths. Match my breathing Scotty. In and out. In and out. You’re ok. You’re going to be fine. Feel my breathing Scott. Breathe with me. In and out.

Scott reaches towards the sound of Stiles’ voice in his head, speaking his own mantra as he goes. Just listen to the sound of my voice Stiles. You’re going to be ok. Just breathe for me. Reach for me. Scott thinks about how much he loves Stiles. How devastated he’d be if something happened to him. When the nogitsune came and Stiles thought he was sick, Scott had been ready to give him the bite to make it better, to keep Stiles with him.

He thinks of Stiles’ value to the pack. His intelligence. His ruthlessness. His loyalty. Now that Scott’s thought about it, it makes perfect sense that Stiles would be his emissary. Scott defers to him for guidance. Their friendship has always built upon their strengths and, according to Deaton, that’s what an emissary and alpha are meant to be, a team. Scott might have all the strength and brawn and heart, but Stiles protects Scott, he always has. He sees the things that Scott can’t and sometimes doesn’t want to.

You have to come back to me, man. I need you. Deaton says you’re perfectly fine. You just got a little shock to the system. Lydia’s here. She says you’re not dying.

Scott keeps pushing forward with all his concentration on Stiles. How he feels about him, memories of their relationship, and things he wants to say. Scott sucks in a breath as he feels a warm sort of glowing feeling start to build where his chest is pressed to Stiles’ back.

Lydia gasps, “He’s getting warmer. His breathing is getting better.”

Scott feels the warmth pull taught like a string and he tries to direct his thoughts along it. He can feel Stiles now. Scott can sense his mind struggling to surface against his body’s fatigue. It isn’t until Scott explores their connection more that he begins to understand just what that creature did. Stiles’ essence, his soul, feels raw to Scott. Stiles has literally had pieces of his mind and soul taken and put back. No wonder he was in such shock.

He took my memories, Scott. All the good ones just drained away little by little until I could barely remember who I was and what you all meant to me.

Stiles?

I’m here. Or, at least, I’m working my way back I think. It all sort of rushed back in at the same time. A lot of good; but, a lot. You know?

You’re going to be okay. Lydia and I are working on warming you up. The shock should wear off soon. Deaton says you’re perfectly fine otherwise.

I can’t wait to feel perfectly fine.

I’ve got a lot to tell you soon.

Do you? Does it have something to do with this nifty mind-meld?

Possibly.

Will we be able to do this from now on?

Don’t know.

That would be cool. It’s like the ultimate dream of our friendship. Mind reading.

Yeah, I guess it’s the only thing we haven’t achieved. Hey, maybe now I should finally watch Star Wars like you’ve always wanted.

Mind-melds are Star Trek.

There’s more than one star thingy?

Let’s not talk about this right now.

Ok. Oh, and, Stiles?

Yep.

When you wake-up, Lydia is going to be draped across you. Just, um, heads up.

She makes an excellent pack member.

She does.

We’re the originals you know? Even before Lydia was a banshee. We were a four-person wolf pack without even realizing it.

I know.

It’s gonna be okay Scott. I’m gonna be ok. We’re gonna be okay.

I know.

But thanks for the heads up.

You still like her?

Are you trying to distract me from my state of shock?

Maybe.

I think it is safe to say that I still love Lydia. But, I think it is also safe to say that what I used to feel for her was both massively immature and largely superficial to what I feel now.

I know what you mean. We’ve all grown a lot.

We’ve all had to.

This mind thing is somehow more intimate and also more removed.

It’s a lot like when I stick my claws in your neck, except I didn’t have to.

I think I’m ready to wake up now.

Okay. I’m gonna try to, um, go, I guess, and you just come back when you’re ready.

Scott tries to slowly come back to himself, which is honestly like peeling velcro apart. The sensation isn’t painful, but it’s also not pleasant.

When he opens his eyes to see Stiles stirring in his arms on the bed, he breathes a sigh of relief. He did it. It’s going to be fine. Lydia is looking at him with a bright shimmer in her eyes that means she is definitely not going to cry but only through sheer force of will.

Stiles flutters his eyes open and he looks at Lydia, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair where it’s spilled around her head on his chest. His voice is a whisper, “you remembered me. You both did. I almost gave up.”

Lydia smiles, “life didn’t feel quite right without you in it.”

Scott squeezes briefly where his arms are still wrapped around Stiles, “I’m sorry it took us so long.”

“Doesn’t matter, you came for me. I told him you would.” Stiles closes his eyes briefly again and exhales, “I need a shower. I feel disgusting. It put its hands all over me practically and…”

Scott doesn’t even know he’s growling until Stiles trails off and Lydia sits up startled. Stiles doesn’t move though, he just laughs a little, “it’s ok Scotty; it didn’t have its way with me, just with my soul. I think it had to touch me to feed and I just feel gross.”

Scott tries to settle himself and think like a friend and not an alpha. Though to be honest, even as a friend he’s feeling an unexpectedly intense wave of possessiveness. He relaxes his hold and lets Stiles tentatively stand with Lydia’s help.

She turns to look at the short trip to the bathroom across the hall from Stiles bed, “do you need help with anything? Do you want us to go?”

“I need some time, but I honestly don’t want to be alone right now,” Stiles eyes dart around the room.

Lydia nods, “how about I stay here while you get a shower and change out of these clothes and Scott can run home and get some stuff and then he can stay with you as long as you need?”

Stiles nods, “that works.”

Scott looks to Lydia, “do you want me to pick up anything for you so you can stay?”

She startles a little and then gives a small smile, “that would be great, thank you.”

Stiles gives Scott a grateful look, “can we do that pack thing later that I told you was a good idea and you didn’t believe me till we tried it?”

Scott rolls his eyes, “just say cuddle, Stiles, it’s cuddling. There is no way around it. Yes, we can cuddle.”

Scott hesitates a second and Stiles looks expectantly at him, “it would actually help my wolf a lot to keep you two close right now. You’re the, uh, senior members of the pack. Original members? I don’t know what to call it, but after what’s happened it would help me to be near you for a bit to help me settle.”

Stiles smiles tiredly, “see? Look at you using your words and shit.”

Scott makes a little face at him but Stiles can see the pleased look underneath. He leaves and Stiles turns towards the bathroom because he needs to feel clean right now. He tells Lydia to make herself at home as he goes.

 

Stiles stares into the mirror at his face until the edges blur a little. He spends time taking in the happy memories, fresh in his mind and happier somehow for the recent loss and recapture of them. The first time Lydia kissed him. The first time he realized they were really, actually, solidly friends.

The first time he realized people that weren’t Scott or his Dad liked him and depended on him. Spending nights drunk in the woods with Scott looking up at the stars. Telling his Dad he wanted to go into law enforcement and the proud look his Dad gave him. Realizing Malia was with him because she really wanted to be.

He thinks about the new memories he gets to add to the pile. While technically not under the best circumstances he had gotten to swim around in his friends’ dreams. He had shared intimate thoughts with them. It was thrilling and humbling.

When he stumbles out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom he realizes that Lydia has made the bed with clean sheets and blankets and he could kiss her. He’s not sure where she went though.

“You kissed me.” Scott’s voice from the doorway makes Stiles jump a foot and turn around so fast he almost loses his balance.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Scott apologizes as he moves into the room.

“It’s fine,” Stiles says. And then, “I needed to get your attention.”

“We’ve never kissed before.”

“That’s why it worked.”

Scott is quiet for another moment and Stiles knows it’s his way of processing, “all those times you talked about finding me attractive or making out, where you serious?”

Stiles looks away.

Scott looks devastated, “I just laughed it off. I laughed at you.”

That fact that Scott’s the one who looks horrified makes Stiles want to laugh and cry at the same time. How does he deserve Scott’s friendship?

“You laughed with me dude. You didn’t think I was serious. And I guess I wasn’t really. But, if you hadn’t laughed. I would have probably tried.”

Scott still looks upset, and Stiles tries not to roll his eyes, “dude, it’s not like I came out to you and you were mean or unsupportive. I mean, I think I’ve stumbled my way through the ‘I’m theoretically bisexual’ talk like two times with you and you were basically like ‘cool, we’re still bros.”

Stiles looks at the floor, “the better question is why aren’t you mad at me? I’m pretty sure that the not so straight bro is not supposed to kiss the straight bro without his permission. That’s like the number one rule of respect and boundaries in a bromance.”

Scott laughs, “did you just make up the word bromance?”

Stiles shrugs, “I got it off the internet.”

Scott shakes his head, “I’m not mad at you because it worked. And it was a great kiss.”

Stiles looks up at that, “I thought so too.” He nods, to himself almost, “so you’re not freaking out?”

“There’s nothing to freak out about. I mean, I’m pretty sure that your 10 year plan to make Lydia fall in love with you just moved up like 7 years. And we’ve been best friends since forever. And we have gay friends. I think that it’s weird that we haven’t made out before now.”

Stiles laughs, “well, when you put it that way.”

Scott walks forward until he’s standing right in front of Stiles, “And I know for a fact that I loved Allison, and Kira, and that I love you, even if in a different way... so…”

Stiles looks up at the ceiling and then at Scott, “so… I love you too.”

“So, you see,” Scott moves even closer, “nothing to worry about,” he leans into Stiles personal space, though honestly, what is personal space when it comes to their friendship?

Stiles feels like he should still apologize on principle, “I’m sorry I dream kissed you without your permission.”

Scott’s reply is a whisper against Stiles’ mouth, who doesn’t pull away, “I’m sorry I laughed at the idea of us making out for fun.”

Their lips barely touch before pulling apart again and Stiles speaks, “when are you going to figure out that I always have good ideas?”

Scott smiles before leaning into the kiss fully, pressing Stiles up against his desk, letting the heat of their bodies mingle as their lips slide together.

Scott whispers as they pull away, “that was way better than the dream.”

Stiles smiles, “it often is, Scotty. It often is.”

“It was a dream for me,” Lydia says from the doorway. Both boys spring apart. She just shrugs as she comes into the room in her pajamas. Scott must have given her the things he brought her and she has been changing in another room. Stiles almost forgot she was there.

She tosses her hair over one shoulder as she sets her bag down on Stiles’ desk, “don’t stop on my account. I mean, I’m not shocked in the least. Plus, I’ve kissed both of you so it’s not like I’m judging taste.”

Stiles laughs as he recovers his shock at her entrance, while Scott just stands there like he’s taking longer to process all her words.

Lydia turns towards them again, leaning against the desk, “I mean, I’m more shocked that you seem to have never made out before right now.”

Stiles laughs again, “right? That’s what Scott said.”

Scott looks down at the floor and mutters something about brushing his teeth before practically fleeing the room. Lydia watches him go, still amused, but then turns questioningly to Stiles, “I don’t remember him having a bag for himself when he got back.”

Stiles moves to pull the newly made bed covers down, “he showered at his place and just grabbed some clothes. And Scott’s had his own toothbrush here since forever. He doesn’t need much else.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “how wonderful it must be as a guy to being able to travel like that instead of with your entire bathroom crammed into one bag so that you can still do your entire skin and hair care routine.”

Stiles lays down on the bed, “hey, I moisturize. I have skin care and hair things.”

Lydia lays down as well, leaving room for Scott in the middle, “it’s really not the same thing.”

Stiles gives a mock huff, “fine.”

She smiles and reaches across the bed to grab his hand and squeeze it, “I missed you. I didn’t know I did, but once I got my memory back, I realized that I did. I just didn’t know it, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. That thing took my memories as he was feeding on me and then when Scott killed it I guess I got them all back at once. Like the time Scott and I fell asleep at the pool one summer and got really sunburned. Melissa had to practically bathe us in aloe.”

He looks down at their hands, “and I remembered the time you kissed me out of a panic attack. Which was so fucking smart and if I hadn’t already loved you before then…”

Stiles hears her exhale and looks back up to see Lydia’s eyes shimmering a little, “you love me?”

“Of course I do. Now more than ever. Being your friend. Fighting with you and for you, it’s only made me realize how much more I could care for you. How amazing you are.”

Lydia leans in and presses her lips softly to Stiles’ own. Just a chaste kiss, even more so than the one he shared with Scott, but a promise of more.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to see you,” she says, “because you’re worth seeing. You’re worth remembering. I love you. I love this pack. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for any of you. I didn’t realize I could care about something so much more than I care about myself. But you did.”

Stiles just smiles at her. The smile he gives her sometimes that he thinks she doesn’t notice. It’s the one that makes her want to give her heart to him even though she doesn’t know how to do that very well. She’s going to try for him.

Scott makes some sort of noise at the door before coming into the room, like he has to announce himself. Lydia lets go of Stiles’ hand so Scott can crawl up the middle of the bed and settle down in the clean covers. He inhales deeply and wiggles back and forth before relaxing.

Stiles huffs when Scott just lays there, “do you remember what we talked about when Malia started stripping down in front of us all to run in her coyote form?”

Scott rolls his eyes, “that it’s not weird if it’s pack.”

Lydia rolls onto her side to face them, “what do you need?”

“Well, first I need you both to admit that you’re dating.”

Stiles flails a little, “we’re working on it.”

“You go to her place in the middle of the night all the time now.”

Lydia cuts a look at Stiles, “to look for dead bodies like I’m some sort of deathly homing pigeon.”

Stiles smiles, “that’s how I show affection, ask Scott. We used to go looking for dead bodies all the time.”

Lydia looks at her nails, “that is not helping your case.”

Stiles looks at Scott, “again I say, we’re working on it.”

Scott looks at the ceiling, his thoughts clearly switching gears, “she’d be so proud of us and so happy for you guys. We’re graduating and we’re finally starting to get this whole pack thing down.”

Lydia scoots closer to Scott, wrapping herself around his side as he brings an arm under her to pull her in closer, “she’s still with us, you know? She’ll always be with us when it matters.”

Stiles nods and settles in too, punching the pillow a few times before turning into Scott to match Lydia’s position so that Scott has them booth enfolded into his side.

Stiles laughs a little when Scott’s nose brushes his hair as he sniffs him and then Lydia in turn. Scott sighs before relaxing into the bed, “this is what I needed.”

Both Lydia and Stiles speak simultaneously, “we know.”

 

It’s subtle after that, the way the pack reacts to forgetting Stiles. Like they did it on purpose and feel guilty even though they were literally magicked into it. He and Lydia start spending even more time together and when he tells her he’s going to call it dating, she smiles and in a very Lydia way doesn’t say anything.

Scott crawls into his window once or twice a week and ends up curled around Stiles in some arrangement or other as they fall asleep. Stiles isn’t sure if this new normal is to reassure him or Scott that he’s safe.

His Dad, and most of the other people not directly involved in rescuing him, seem to have forgotten that they forgot him. Which Stiles thinks is odd. Stiles really hates magic sometimes. It defies logic.

At least 3 times a day a pack member hugs Stiles, claps him on his shoulder, or does this weird rubbing against him thing that he’s pretty sure is scent marking. Malia seems to be walking some line in her head that she’s struggling with in which she wants to be close to Stiles in reassurance like the rest of the pack, but also seems to be trying to respect Stiles and Lydia’s new whatever they are and her friendship with Lydia. Stiles tries to stutter through some speech to her that it’s ok and that pack and friendship are more important than things like past relationships. She said Lydia said the same thing and he exhales a sigh of relief internally.

Every once and awhile Lydia sleeps over at Stiles and Scott shows up for one of his nights and they end up wrapped around one another. They talk about the pack and the future. They talk about Allison and the past. They talk about when and if Kira will come back. They talk about college and Stiles doesn’t freak out. He feels really good about his life for the first time in a long time.

A month or so after the incubus incident Stiles and Lydia are supposed to be studying when Lydia decides it’s time. She puts her physics book down on Stiles desk and walks over to where he’s lounging across his bed trying to catch-up on a few acts of King Lear before the well-known “pop” quiz on Friday that Mr. Katz likes to give on the reading. Lydia pushes him down before straddling his waist and leaning down to kiss him, pressing her lips into his firmly before sitting back.

Stiles smiles when she pulls back and smirks a little, “um, ok.”

Lydia has one of those looks she gets when she is determined, “the kid gloves are coming off right now Stiles. I know that this is new and scary and maybe a long time coming…”

Stiles grins, “longer for me…”

He breaks off when she shoves a finger in his face, “not the point. The point is you told me once to stop playing the popular girl and be the smart girl you knew I was. You also told me once to shut up and let you save me. I need you to be that Stiles, here with me right now.”

The grins drops off his face and he sits up a little, “alright, ok. I just want to make sure that this is what you want. I want it to be, um, good. Maybe perfect?”

Lydia smiles one of her real smiles, Stiles knows them all, before cupping his cheek with one hand, “it’s not going to be perfect. It’s just going to be us.”

Stiles nods and reaches up to run his hands through her hair, trailing down to her neck to bring her back to him and when their mouths meet this time it’s less a press and more a movement. They kiss more desperately than they ever have before. Like she’s trying to commit him to memory, something neither of them will take for granted ever again.

They manage to toss shirts to the floor, her lavender bra knocked askew and then finally just removed by her while Stiles stares at her, perched on his lap. And technically, she has all the power; but, the way he looks at her makes her feel powerless. He’s not frozen with nerves or inexperience. It’s almost like he’s just trying to remind himself that he has permission to touch. He’s looking at her like she’s someone worthy of reverence.

Stiles moves his hands finally, molding them to Lydia’s body. He skims up her hips and ribs, brushes his thumbs over her nipples which makes her jerk a little. She runs her fingers through his hair, gripping it gently to pull him to her as he explores her chest with his mouth. Lydia moans and rocks slightly which makes Stiles moan in turn.

He moves with purpose then, up and over her till she’s under him and lifting up so he can slip her skirt and panties off. She arches for him, showing off a little. It’s been a while, but she’s always felt in command of herself during sex. She knows this dance even if the partner is new. She very much wants to learn how to dance with Stiles.

She points at him, “pants.”

He gets the point and shimmies out of them before crawling back onto the bed and up till their bodies are aligned. There is nothing between them now and she explores with her hands while they kiss again. He nips at her lip and oh that is the first time someone has done that to her. That’s her signature move. It feels good in the reverse.

Stiles is honestly shocked that this is going so well. He’s into it. I mean, God, it’s Lydia, of course he’s into it. But, he’s not, like, over-thinking it. Which is great. He never thought to dream that Lydia would be his first or would be his ever, and now he’s glad she wasn’t first because he feels a lot more confident than he had ever imagined he’d be in bed with Lydia Martin.

Stiles starts to kiss down her body and he mumbles something about the bedside drawer as he goes. She gets the hint and twists to open it, reaching a hand in and pulling out a condom. She hands it to him and he puts it on the bed beside him with a, “in a minute”. She laughs at that and at his tongue in her belly-button.

He pauses for a minute to take that in, “you’re ticklish?”

She sniffs a little trying to rein in her giggles, “even perfect people can be ticklish.”

He smiles delightedly, like he’s uncovered some secret, “I guess so.”

She holds her breath a little as he continues his task, trailing lower until he’s resting between her legs. His arms come up under her legs and he cradles her to him. When did Stiles get so strong? The first tentative swipe of his tongue along her fold has her sucking in a breath. She feels his hand move and then she feels him part her with his fingers, spreading her wetness around and pressing a thumb into her clit to gauge her reaction.

She squirms and moans, arching her head back a little. He gets to work after that and she loses time a little as her breathing increases and he alternates between using his tongue and his fingers to open her up. She looks down at some point to see him looking up at her, those honey brown eyes tracking every reaction to learn how to make her feel good. She needs more of him. She needs it now.

She pulls at his hair, “Stiles, up. Now.”

He gets it immediately, pulling off and moving up to grab the condom, but she takes it from him and moves, “on your back.”

He falls over on his back and she climbs back onto him as he looks amusedly up at her, “whatever you want.”

She opens the condom and gets her hand around him, her fingers moving up and down, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock, which is leaking. His breath stutters out and his hips move up.

She takes mercy on him and rolls the condom down until it’s snug at the base, which she squeezes a bit before moving forward. She reaches down to guide him into her and watches in wonder as his neck arches and he grips her hips to try and stay still for her while she lowers herself onto him.

When they are finally interlocked his hands make the trip upward again from her hips to her ribs to her breasts. He looks wrecked and she feels the power surge up in her again. She’s always seen her body as a weapon to wield, now more literally than ever, but for the first time since maybe the first time she feels like she’s giving a gift. Stiles looks at her like she’s a gift.

She places her hands on his chest over his heart to steady herself and she rolls her hips, feels him shift inside her. He thrust his hips up and she rides them back down to the bed. The next time they move together she leans forward even more, searching for a better angle. The third time, she feels it as the sensation moves up into her belly and spine and she moans. She starts moving faster to chase it and Stiles grips her hips and starts thrusting up as best he can to help her.

The rhythm builds as they move together. She likes the way Stiles looks under her, his eyes moving over her body as she watches his quick mind take in her reactions and alter his movements to match her desire. She messes up their movements when she leans over to kiss him, but she wants to. His tongue moves into her mouth when she opens her lips against his and she feels his arms come around her briefly to hold her body to his as their hips still for a minute. She feels as safe now, cradled against his body, as she has in times when he’s used his body to shield her from threats, from herself even. Stiles protects her. Always.

She lifts up again, her body calling for release. Their movements become more frantic after that. For someone who is almost never still or quiet, Stiles is both more graceful and more silent in bed then she thought he would be. His quiet moans mix in the air with her more breathy ones and she comes first as her thighs lock around his hips and she feels her orgasm rip up her spine.

He pushes her through it with his thumb pressed into her clit before gripping both of her hips to grind her down onto him as he thrusts up to chase his pleasure. He says her name rather quietly when he comes. She lies there flushed and still trying to breathe correctly while he gets rid of the condom.

By the time they curl up together under that covers she feels like they’ve reached past speech. There’s nothing to say after the experience they just had, even Stiles doesn’t have words. The only thing talking is the air not between them and the twin heartbeats pounding out a beat in harmony.

They lay together under the covers, tangled up with Stiles on his back and her sprawled across his chest so she can hear his heart thump slower now that they’ve calmed down. It’s contentment like she hasn’t felt in years. They’re teetering on the edge of sleep when something large drops through Stiles open window and stands up before jumping, yelling, and spinning around in the other direction to face the wall.

Stiles flails a little, harder to do with her on his chest, but she lifts her body up at the commotion, “Scott?”

Scott is looking resolutely at the wall, “Fuck! I am so sorry guys. I’m just gonna go.”

Lydia laughs, “exactly how often does Scott come here in the middle of the night?”

Stiles looks over at her with the sheet pooling around both their waists. She’s not ashamed of her nudity. They’ve both seen Malia nude.

Stiles looks at Scott’s back, “I mean, how often is too often?”

Scott talks without turning his back, “you sneak into my window too, bro.”

“The point is that, yes, this does happen regularly. But only recently has it led to cuddling of the pack variety.”

Scott looks at the window and moves to climb out, “but I’m sorry I interrupted and I’m going to leave right now and…”

Lydia speaks up, “why?”

Both Scott and Stiles look at her and then they both seem to realize again how naked she is and Scott looks away quickly while Stiles responds with, “why, why?”

“Because Scott is our alpha and he apparently needs to be surrounded by pack right now and we’re here. It’s fine.”

Stiles smiles at her and kisses her quickly before turning to Scott, “you heard her, it’s fine.”

Scott looks uncomfortably torn, “will you be putting on more clothes?”

Lydia replies immediately, “will you be taking more off?”

That punches a laugh out of Stiles, “Lydia, stop torturing him.”

“I mean, you’ve both seen each other naked and you’ve seen Malia naked.”

Scott turns towards them but he has his eyes closed, “I just want to state for bro record that you and I have not seen each other naked Lydia.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “I think we all just need to accept a new normal based on what is best for the pack. Now, Scott, you should undress to your level of comfort and Stiles can be in the middle.”

Scott looks at Stiles and Stiles just shrugs, “she’s not wrong.”

Scott huffs a little and then sort of shuffles towards the bed like it’s going to bite him, but he doesn’t leave. Lydia scoots over a little more and lays back down, pulling Stiles with her so that he’s curled up with her and facing Scott.

Scott pulls off his shirt and then looks down and seems to come to some conclusion before shucking off his shoes, socks, and jeans. He crawls into bed and the scent of Lydia and Stiles and sex is even stronger and he tries to breathe it in to see if it’s weird. His wolf sort of turns over a little, like a funny feeling in his chest.

Scott rolls towards Stiles and their legs come together in a few places. He smiles and places his hand on Stiles upper arm and watches as Lydia’s smaller hand covers his.

Stiles speaks first, “dude, your eyes are doing the red thing.”

He sounds hesitant, like he’s not sure he should let Scott know. Scott smiles sort of stupidly, “I think it’s because my wolf really, really likes that you two are, um, together.”

Lydia pipes up from the other side of Scott, “why?”

Scott shrugs, not even trying to hide the way he’s breathing in the smell of Stiles sheets and moving a little closer till his cheek is pressed up against Stiles’ sternum, “Well, I guess you guys smell more like each other right now than you ever have. Like when me and Allison’s scent started mixing. Or Erica and Boyd. You can just tell as a wolf when two people are together. And I think that my wolf sees it as a unity of sorts. That you’re committed to each other and to the pack.”

Lydia smiles, “see, not weird.”

Stiles looks down to wear Scott is pressed to his front even as he strokes a hand through Scott’s hair for something to do, “no, it’s still a little weird.”

Scott nods, “yeah.” He doesn’t move though.

Stiles looks at Scott and thinks about something he’s been working on, “hey, do you guys mind if I try something?”

Scott looks up with a wary gaze, “like what?”

Lydia just says, “sure.”

Stiles grabs Lydia’s hand and brings it around to his heart, “Ok, Scott, put your hand under Lydia’s, right on my skin over my heart.”

Scott does what he’s told and Stiles lays one of his hands on top of theirs, “ok, Lydia, I need you to think about Scott. Think about how you feel about him and the pack. I’m going to do the same. I’ve been working with Deaton and doing some studying on how to build and manipulate the emissary bond I share with Scott.”

Scott looks at their hands and then looks at Stiles, “what do you want me to do?”

“Just think about finding the thread like you did for me that night you pulled me out of my shock.”

Stiles gets this look on his face like he’s concentrating, “Deaton said the trick to magic is to concentrate on what you want without using your will to force it because then you overthink and your mind gets in the way and you get blocked.”

Scott nods, “when will I know when it…”

He jerks a little but maintains the link. Scott feels this warmth inside of him, like light coursing through his veins. It’s like a tiny version of what it felt like to become a true alpha. Scott tries to gather it up and draw it in. He hasn’t felt something this wonderful in a while.

Scott looks from their joined hands to Stiles’ face, “What is this?”

Stiles exhales and when his eyes focus on Scott the feelings fades, his control over the connection waning, “that is how Lydia and I feel about you. I used our connection to push our feelings in this moment through to you.”

Scott has to process that for a second before he’s grinning at Stiles, “that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Stiles grins back, “well, I mean, I’ve got a long way to go before I’m like Deaton-level emissary material, but I’m working on it.”

Scott peeks over at Lydia, not even caring that she’s naked anymore, “is that really how you feel about me?”

Lydia smirks, “Of course. You’re our friend and our leader. We’d do anything for you.”

Scott leans in really quick and presses his lips to Stiles’ before pulling away and leaning over Stiles to press a quick kiss to Lydia’s shoulder.

They don’t need to use words after that.

They all fall silent and they just breathe together in the warm, crowded nest that is Stiles bed as the cool night air blows into the open window.

Stiles wakes up the next morning more gently than he normally does. Instead of jerking out of sleep he wakes up like he’s floating down. He realizes he is very warm and when he takes stock of his surroundings he remembers he is sandwiched between a very naked Lydia, who has turned her back to him in the night, but has managed to keep their legs tangled together, and a sorta naked Scott.

Scott has also turned his back and has taken Stiles with him so that Stiles’ body is pressed into Scott’s back and Scott is cradling one of Stiles’ arms to his chest and making a strange rumbling sound that Stiles is not going to call a purr. He takes a moment to consider the differences of being in bed with a man. He’s thought about it, but he’s never slept with a guy so this is different. He and Scott’s recent foray into snuggling hasn’t been this intimate. Stiles decides he likes it as long as Scott and Lydia are ok with it.

Stiles looks down Scott’s shoulder to his arm where the tattoo that Stiles hates is. From this angle it almost looks like the beginning of a ripple, a line that begets another line, out and out into forever. Stiles life feels a little like a ripple that started when Scott was bit, the repercussions expanding out into still water set in motion. He finally feels like some of those ripples are starting to manifest change in his favor. He feels Lydia stir and roll over… definitely in his favor.

 

                                                              

 

Flash-forward many years

It’s Scott who knows first, even though he doesn’t know he knows. In fact, what Scott doesn’t know he knows could probably fill a book. But, like Derek said, it’s harder to be turned than to be born. So, yeah, Scott scares the shit out of all of them.

It starts when he comes in from work and moves to kiss Stiles on the side of the neck as he stirs whatever’s for dinner on the stovetop. Scott turns as Lydia comes into the kitchen from her study and as she gets nearer to him he feels his wolf turn over with his stomach, she smells different. Not bad, but different from the day before.

Scott pulls her to him, sniffing her neck deeply, a small whine pulling at his throat before he even realizes he’s made a noise. He holds her apart from him, “you smell different.”

Lydia huffs and rolls her eyes, “I’m trying out a new perf…”

“No,” Scott tries to make himself clearer, “you smell like something has changed. Something is off about your body chemistry. Your base scent has changed and it’s something I don’t recognize.”

Lydia freezes for a minute, her quick mind forming connections faster than Scott can put things into place in his mind, “do I smell sick?”

Scott knows what she’s asking and he realizes as he hears the clatter of a spoon hit the floor that Stiles does too. Both Lydia and Scott turn towards Stiles. Scott sees the moment that the ghost of Stiles’ mom flickers in the depths of those honey brown eyes and he hears Stiles’ heartbeat stutter over its normal beating rhythm like someone who falls trying to go down a set of stairs too fast.

“Lydia,” it’s a painful whisper of a sound and Scott feels her stir behind him before she moves rapidly towards Stiles, her arms around him in an instant.

“No. Don’t you even think it Stiles. I’m going to go to the doctor. Tomorrow. No waiting. I’ll do whatever they ask and you’ll see that there’s nothing to be worried about.”

Scott isn’t surprised that Lydia isn’t concerned for herself, but for Stiles and how losing his mom paints his reaction to things, especially things like this. If Scott hadn’t been so surprised he would have been more tactful. The idea of one of them hurt or sick affects each of them on a visceral level. Scott’s not sure who he’d be, who he’d become, without them.

So even though it’s probably nothing, Scott assures himself, they are going to the doctor right away. He presses himself to Lydia’s back and runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair where his face is pressed into Lydia’s hair. He smells her again and his brows come together in confusion. She doesn’t really smell sick, but she smells like something that Lydia’s never smelled like. Not an emotion but something more integral, more important.

It isn’t until days later, when they’re sitting in the doctor’s office that Scott discovers how right and how wrong he was.

The doctor looks over his desk at the three of them. He looks at Stiles’ white-knuckled grip on Lydia’s right hand. He looks at Scott’s relaxed and supportive grip on Lydia’s left hand. He looks at Lydia’s supremely naturally calm face. The one that Scott knows she uses when she’s freaking out on the inside.

The doctor clears his throat before saying, “Congratulations Ms. Martin, you’re pregnant.”

“Oh,” is all Lydia can say as the death grip Stiles had on her hand relaxes and Scott’s grip tightens imperceptibly.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it. I appreciate every kudos and I respond to all comments.
> 
> Warning: there is some SLIGHT dub-con because the incubus touches Stiles to feed from him. Obviously, the touching is happening without his permission, but no sexual assault occurs. 
> 
> I suck at tags, let me know if you think it needs more.


End file.
